Hostel
Paint liquored walls burn cider orange above people on couches, leaping to scald the stranded beach footsteps of thousands bringing foreign dust and international ideas, sleeping wide eyed in bus striped jungle laced journeys. Lyrics of well trodden records flip through the warm shag earth of carpet sand sliding between soft cover books and napping on waterlily Irish tongue while liquid optical sodafizz moments spill a myriad of photo smiles over a teasplashed tabletop. Like incubi of travel we seduce the clockwork running above our shaven hearts into yielding for the little universes of rock and sand around us climbing reahing for the milky blue breasts of sky poking through coffee warm sun. We are ephemeral plants pistoling forth and back into playing card midnights dealing hands of slow mornings, meddling gorges of rest into our blankety milk scrubbed skin. We taste jazz in broiled culture food and swivel to face snow hands churning turning laughing spicy laughs into supper baked dishes, fingers dolloped dish soap blue, steaming Irish Welsh Aussie tongues clean in ivory piano sinks. Songs jog out of fresh morning honey lemon throats whistling to Adelaide eyes and Arkansas yawns, vibrating writhing waking old forgotten archives of flower yodeling men in Detroit. Spiny nights cough energy into snow bitten lungs, inhaling smoking eating the stories of us living a purple peat moss adventure in Texas, hotter than chili grins simmered down to the jalapeno crust. Spanish souptalk dribbles in sporadic sentences fucking our souls with its vernacular, leaving us to spit the apple seed replies between catching our breath and tossing it back to the rapid rock garden karma speaker. Six o'clock teapots sizzle scream exhale howl for dawn, dancing to hitch upvalley till our gears lock up and crackle, stopping on the futon conversations that spit ash and drink magma granola shakes. Jackeled hyena eyes star from fireplace corners preying meditating weeping their tales of Seattle wind inquiring black cotton scarves and of rain squished Mississippi drives flaring chestnut puddles at trotting children, drawing cries of gumbo coated excitement. These sight triggered memories ricochet across the tea walls of album orgies, invisible repeating repeating soundtracks dipped in vanilla extract Cat Stevens symphonies. Vinyl groove oxen yoked with bluegrass rhythms swindle us out of hour long hot chocolate naps, spreading homesick xylophone-tuned notes like an ant trapped in the icebergs of lonely freezerburned yams. Succulent chalk textured telephone calls buckle weak beneath quiet stanpedes of angora thoughts scraping our discount womb of back-front house clutter, gutting perfect stucco canyons into the heels of thick Russian madmen and speaking America's holiday poems into our stinking bellybutton eardrums, linty with seven languages of Warhol landscapes. Soup burned lips lick refrigerator chilled items clean like cold kitten Brillo rash tongue, scraping orange juice dry. Front porch coffee ashcans stand squat shivering on brine colored benches, smoking charred Camel cigarette butts stained wet drippy with snow spackle, ingesting nicotine talk and crumpled cellophane secrets like carcinogen parasites. Ice stomped boots flick over the wooden tongue boards dragging dirt wilted laced in a fatigued march to the porchmouth stairs, letting chipped paint teeth chew stress necklaces into the soles of size six leather. Sidewalk shovels stand tinfoil shiny against weary steps waiting, checking wristwatch sunshadows for Zeus news of blizzard wind tossed flakes, at ease hearing giggle woven rapture essays between numb winter lipped nomad boys and journey hunters. Scrabble sown literary kids sweeten brash fucktalk with fifty-point words and double-letter fudge sundaes melting ambitious infant minds into butter molds of intellectual cream and two penny palm readings, a dictionary tarot of word fiddles and hungry foresight. Scattered simply in bunks of dorm dimpled reservations there sleep wild nightmares of time running sideways into walls and bouncing against locked doors, shrieking some garbled sapphire schedule to door frame dreams. Thick inside the uterus of this cozy supermarket variety clanhouse forms a small hope-bead layering luminous sequined souls together like baby barnicles. Sparrows pencil short hunkering haikus around the pearl fetus, weaving a fallopial translucent shell over the stained glass eyelids of this developing epiphany. Lemon acid ink types a double helix of future far into the awe-covered arteries, sealing red wax vows in a timpani tattoo of diseroding arpeggios. This tipi of flint sparks high altitudes of praise into birth canals of our destitute brain boxes, leading us to meditating Zen yelling in raucous heaps of peace. Purring ambition-laced kittens and woolen socks worn tribal patterned and inside out walk tight trails to the valleys we ran from, clutching to high peaks of the bony shoulders of America, gasping magenta grief mantras in pulse with the hunted throb of the Rockies. A cowering sleep cave pressed down into a small tour town, this hidden belly of music and food and culture-children nourishes the broken necklaces of entropy threaded destinies with chocolate-barefoot mural walls and foamy theory talk and front porch nicotine exercise. A sweltering sofa cushion box of sleep veins, this sacred niche is piecing red-apple Bach verse into resting beds of ginseng wrought tea leaves and gorgeous herds of pineapple haired travelers. A parer of sharded old ideas, we hav skinned ourselves down to raw bone love and made petri-dish hope thrive.